Page 88 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

The Gryphon’s presence thrummed through her. Its thoughts merged with hers. Its instincts became her own.

Bloodlust. The desire to rend. To tear. To protect her home. Her family. Her first love.

For once, Skylar didn’t fight these urges. She let them flow through her. Embraced the primal rage that had always simmered beneath the surface.

Her gaze swept over the regrouping Thorncrest soldiers. She tasted their fear, smelled their sweat. Saw the way their hands trembled on their weapons.

Weak. Prey.

The Gryphon’s wings twitched, eager for battle. Its talons scraped against the marble floor, leaving deep gouges.

Skylar’s lips curled into a snarl, baring teeth that felt too sharp in her mouth. She tasted blood and victory on her tongue.

No more hiding. No more denying who she was.

From this moment on, there was no turning back.

She was Skylar Anathemark. Duke. Protector. Monster. Whatever Arye needed her to be.

And she would paint this ballroom red with the blood of those who dared threaten what was hers.

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Blood sprayed across Skylar’s vision as the Gryphon’s razor-sharp talons tore through another Thorncrest soldier. The man’s scream died in his throat, replaced by a wet gurgle. His eyes bulged, terror-filled orbs in a face twisted by agony. Through their shared consciousness, Skylar felt warm stickiness coating her own hands, tasted copper on her tongue.

She reveled in it.

The ballroom had become an abattoir. Marble floors slick with gore, the air thick with the stench of fear and death. Skylar’s physical body knelt near Arye, eyes closed, face a mask of concentration. But her mind soared with the Gryphon, free and terrible. Every slash of its claws, every beat of its wings, resonated through her being.

“Die, monster!” A soldier charged, blade raised high.

The Gryphon’s beak snapped shut around his midsection. Bones crunched like kindling. Entrails spilled, steaming in the cool air. With a savage shake, it tore the man in two, flinging the pieces aside. A spray of blood, bits of flesh, and shattered armor rained down on horrified onlookers.

Through the Gryphon’s gaze, she spotted Captain Knox rallying his men. Their swords glinted in flickering candlelight, reflecting the chaos around them. Without hesitation, she directed the beast toward them, its massive form moving with impossible speed.

“For Regalclaw!” The Captain’s words rang out, hoarse but determined. His men echoed the cry, steel clashing against steel as they engaged the Thorncrest soldiers.

The Gryphon landed beside them with a thunderous impact, talons gouging deep furrows in marble.

“Watch out!” Captain Knox’s voice cut through the chaos. One of his men, eyes wide with panic, swung at the Gryphon’s flank. The blade glanced off golden feathers, leaving not even a scratch.

An ear-splitting screech tore from the Gryphon’s beak, shattering remaining windows and sending tremors through the floor. Noblewomen fainted, their bodies hitting blood-soaked marble with dull thuds. The soldier who dared attack stumbled back, face pale as death, weapon clattering to the ground.

“You idiot!” Captain Knox bellowed, cuffing the man. “That’s Lady Anathemark, you daft bastard! Use your head!”

How amusing.

The absurdity of it all—the Captain calling her a “lady” while she tore through enemies like parchment—struck her as hilarious.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” Captain Knox said, bowing slightly toward the Gryphon. Blood dripped from a gash above his eye, running down his face like crimson tears. “Shall we?”

Skylar didn’t respond. Through the Gryphon’s eyes, she caught sight of a Thorncrest soldier fleeing. His cape, adorned with red thorns on black, fluttered behind him. A coward’s flag.

Not so fast.

The Gryphon’s wings spread wide, blocking escape. The soldier skidded to a halt, terror etched on his expression as he realized his fate. The acrid stench of urine filled the air as his bladder let go.

What a fun expression.

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